Ocean Ranch
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“It’s no good,” I said, looking out of the window and watching the lightening sky. “There’s still half a mile to go.”
“I know what you mean,” said Tregarthen, who had been my navigator for many years now. He was leaning forward on his chair as if he were going to fall over at any second. He looked more than usually unwell; pale, with sunken eyes.
The man was getting old, although I knew that he never showed it in front of other people. But there was something about him that worried me: he seemed somehow different from normal. He didn’t even seem like himself.
“You need sleep,” I told him. “You’ve got to rest before we come in. It will be all right when we’re safe at home—you’ll see. We’ll just have a cup of tea—”
He waved this away irritably. “No, Captain. You can do it yourself, or leave it to the helmsman. I must go below and lie down. Please don’t wake me again until it is time to get ready to enter the port.” And without waiting for an answer he was off down the ladder.
That was unusual enough in itself—but then I found myself staring after him as he descended. For there was something very odd about this particular shipmaster, and the longer I watched him the less I could tell if he was acting normally or not.
Tregarthen had always been a good captain—a great one, really. His ships sailed faster than most and more safely than others. Even so, I had never seen him look quite so pale or ill-kempt. Something was wrong.
It occurred to me that I ought to ask someone else, but I couldn’t think who. Everyone aboard Ocean Ranch was busy preparing for the journey. They weren’t about, and I felt sure they wouldn’t want me to bother them while they were working. So I went up on deck alone.
If Tregarthen was sick, he would be better off left where he was; if it wasn’t too serious, perhaps I might even be able to help him back on board. Besides, there was something about the way he looked that frightened me and made me want to watch over him.
At least it should stop him from being in the way of everyone else. It wasn’t often I took the wheel myself these days, but I felt confident enough in my own ability to manage everything myself. I could take us through safely enough.
The day was bright and cloudless as we came into Ocean Ranch Port, and the harbor lights shone brightly against the dark water ahead. The last thing we needed was a collision at this stage. I kept close in beside the pier, watching my course intently, and only relaxed when I saw the lighted mooring posts and the ropes waiting for us.
There had been several near misses recently; it was lucky we had managed to avoid any serious accidents.
A few minutes later we were tied up alongside and lowering our boatswain down to haul in the anchor line and make the final adjustments. I went forward to congratulate him, but as soon as he caught sight of me he turned around and climbed the rigging again. He didn’t look well at all.
There was something strange here. I went below to find Tregarthen in his cabin, lying on the bunk and looking pale and haggard. I asked him how he was feeling.
“Much better now, thanks,” he replied. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“No need to apologize,” I said with a smile. “How long has this been happening?”
“For some weeks,” he said quietly, looking up at me with troubled eyes. “But I haven’t had time to mention it before.”
I sat down on the bed beside him, wondering what was wrong. Tregarthen had always seemed strong and healthy before. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d been ill.
He spoke slowly. “When I was a boy, my father used to tell me stories of the sea.”
“I see,” I said. This didn’t sound like something that should disturb him so much.
Tregarthen shook his head slowly. “They weren’t ordinary tales,” he continued. “He said that there were places in the world beyond the sea where the magic lived. Places that men could only enter by passing through the gates, hidden in the mountains on either side of the ocean.”
I was surprised and began to wonder if there had been something else wrong with him after all. But then I remembered what he had told me: about a secret place, and the gate. What did it matter why he was upset? He seemed to feel there was a connection between these two things, and it would be foolish of me not to listen.
“What exactly were your father’s stories about?” I asked gently, not wanting to upset him further. “What sort of magic did he talk about?”
Tregarthen hesitated. I could see him thinking, trying to put into words his feelings. “It was different from anything I’d ever heard before,” he said at last. “It was hard for me to imagine such places existed. But they were very real, I knew that. My father believed them, and he would always say how important it was that we never forgot them.”
“Why was that?”
“Because without those memories, we are nothing,” said Tregarthen softly. “All men have their past, no matter how long ago, and it is the ties between them that hold us together. Without them there can be no civilization.”
This was a little more disturbing than I had expected. I thought that Tregarthen was talking about something completely separate from his own childhood, but suddenly I realized that he must be referring to me. And if this was true, then it meant that whatever I had learned at the Academy hadn’t helped me at all.
We sat together for a while longer, not speaking until Tregarthen finally got off the bunk and stood up. He gave me one last worried look, before turning away and disappearing through the door. I waited to hear footsteps going down the ladder, but none came. Then I made my way back across to my own quarters and lay awake for a long time, thinking about everything my cousin had said.
I was still deep in thought the next morning when a knock came at my door. I opened it and found the captain standing outside. I was surprised to see him, as I wasn’t aware that we had any special business at the moment.
“Captain MacKenzie,” he said quickly. “We’re expecting a cargo of timber from Ocean Ranch Port today. I’ve come to let you know that it’s arriving shortly after midday.”
I nodded. Timber was our main source of income, though we usually bought it directly from the plantations rather than importing from ports as far away as Ocean Ranch. We would need to make our usual stops at the island of Kesh, before coming back to the mainland once more, so this wouldn’t mean too many days out to sea for us.
It was the right decision – we’d be able to leave soon, and I hoped to reach the coast by midmorning on the day after that.
After I’d told the captain goodbye and closed the door behind him, I went over to stand by the stern window. A short distance away I could just see the masthead lanterns of the other three vessels in our flotilla; their lights glinting off the water.
Beyond that was the night sky, clear and dark as it was bound to be for some time. The stars twinkled in a way they never could here. In the distance to the southwest, I could see the glow of a distant fire.
I turned and left the cabin, heading along the passage to find Tregarthen in his office. As I walked through the passages toward him, I felt a sense of peace spread through me. It was a feeling I had rarely experienced since leaving home, and I knew instantly that it was because I was finally alone and safe again.
There would be no angry sailors waiting for me now, no angry crew members looking for pay or punishment. I had only to do as I wished.
As I entered Tregarthen’s office and found him sitting behind his desk, I wondered how he might react if he saw me like this. But even as I thought it, I realized that this was precisely the kind of situation for which I’d been trained. If I had to kill someone, or worse still, if they killed me, then at least I would know that I had done my best and tried to protect myself.
But I wasn’t sure that was what he wanted from me now. I had been sent to save his life – to get him back to his ship so that he could sail back home and live happily ever after with his family. Now, however, things were beginning to change.
There was a knock at the door, and I turned to see one of the ship’s midshipmen enter the room. His name was John Dennison, and he was tall and muscular for a man his age. For several months we had been together almost every waking hour, and I had gotten to know him pretty well.
He gave me an anxious smile as he came over. “Mr. Tregarthen wants to speak with you,” he said.
I nodded. Tregarthen would want to know that we’d lost the first mate, but there was no point in telling him yet. The truth would only upset him further and delay our departure from Kesh.
The following afternoon, Dennison escorted me down the gangway and onto my ship. My crew was already aboard, and they gave me a cheerful cheer as I passed through them. The sight of them always cheered me too; the men who had sailed with me so far all knew each other and worked hard together.
Once inside the quarterdeck, I looked around me to check for damage from the fight. All appeared to be as it should be. The first mate’s body was draped from a line above the wheelhouse. The rest of the deck had been swept clean and was now being scrubbed by two seamen as I spoke.
“What happened?” I asked. “Did any of the men take part?”
One of the young men shook his head. He had short hair and was dressed in black. I couldn’t help thinking of him as a rat – not only because he was small in stature compared to most of the others, but also because he wore a cap made of black material. I had seen him wearing this before; the first time I’d met him he’d been wearing it during our battle with the Spanish warship.
“No, sir,” the sailor replied. “It was Captain MacKenzie himself that did it, sir.”
My mind flashed back to our last conversation when I’d warned MacKenzie that he risked losing his position. Had I been wrong? Had he really planned this whole thing as some kind of revenge for my warning? But why? What purpose did it serve?
“Well done,” I said. “You’ve earned your pay tonight.”
The man smiled, and I continued my inspection of the ship. Most of the crew were cleaning themselves up in preparation for a good meal. The ship smelled of wood shavings and tar, mixed with the aroma of hot food. The smell of it brought back memories of home that I tried to block out.
I glanced across the deck at MacKenzie’s body, which hung limply from the rigging. It would have taken me a long time to die like that if I’d been hanged – it must have been horrible for the first mate.
I wondered if MacKenzie had been given some choice in the matter – whether he would rather be killed slowly or quickly – but I didn’t ask him about it. I didn’t have time to spare for anything except getting back to Port Royal as soon as possible, and if he’d refused to cooperate then perhaps it was best to leave him there, hanging over the deck.
I climbed the stairs into the captain’s quarters and found Tregarthen waiting for me there, seated at the table as though nothing unusual had happened.
“How bad is it?” I asked. “Have any of the men taken part?”
Tregarthen shook his head. “Not one. No one has even admitted to knowing what happened here.” He paused. “So far they’re sticking to their story that the first mate attacked you.”
A cold dread filled me. Was the same thing going to happen to me? Would I be arrested and accused of murder? I was certain that I hadn’t done anything wrong; I had simply fought back against an unprovoked attack by MacKenzie. And yet… I was beginning to fear that the evidence might not be quite so clear-cut after all.
“What about the witnesses?” I asked. “Will anyone back up MacKenzie’s story? Will he say that I hit him first?”
“They won’t say either way,” Tregarthen answered. “But none of the men will give testimony for you. In fact, they seem to think that what MacKenzie did was justified. They say that he deserved to die for trying to kill you and that it wouldn’t have mattered if the first mate had succeeded.
Some of them are already talking about how they wish they could do the same thing in your place. You’ll need to watch your back on this voyage.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I sighed.
“It shouldn’t have to. You’ve proven yourself a fine captain – better than any man I’ve ever served under. But don’t forget, Mr. Fraser, that you’re a Scot too. This isn’t just a simple case of loyalty to your countrymen and the King’s peace: you still live in the Colonies, and these men have been loyal to the Crown since they arrived here.
If they find out that you took part in that attack against a Royal Navy vessel, then they’re going to want revenge. For all we know, you could end up fighting for the Americans.”
“I can handle it,” I assured him.
Tregarthen gave me a sympathetic smile. “You’re right to worry, but if you can convince them that you didn’t do it… then maybe they will trust you. It’s the best you can hope for.”
He left shortly afterward, leaving me alone with the corpse of the first mate. I wasn’t sure what to do with it; the authorities would undoubtedly be very interested in the man’s body, and I didn’t want to get mixed up in any official inquiries.
There was a small wooden chest beneath the bed. I opened it and discovered it full of letters and papers, most of which seemed to be addressed to different merchants around London. A few sheets of paper, however, caught my eye among the other detritus.
One was a letter from Mrs. Margaret Campbell, who lived in Boston. She had written that she was expecting her second child (which was excellent news) but was worried because her husband hadn’t returned home yet. Another sheet bore the name “Thomas McBride”, another merchant from Boston.
He also wrote that he was eagerly awaiting the arrival of his wife’s brother-in-law, whom he expected would arrive in New York within the next two weeks. There was nothing else of much interest among the papers; I put everything back into the box, closed it up, and locked it away.
There were no more bodies belowdecks, but there was no doubt in my mind now that something had happened down there. The smell of blood still lingered, faint and unpleasant in the close confines of the hold. I walked slowly across the deck, looking around for anything that might indicate what had happened.
I saw that the ladder that led below decks had been pulled out completely and leaned against the hull of the ship, but there were no signs of struggle or fighting.
Something moved above me. I glanced upwards, but couldn’t see anything. Then the air grew cold, like ice water being poured over me. I turned sharply, ready to shout out, but no sound came out of my mouth. My hands went instinctively to my throat but felt nothing there. It was only when I saw my reflection in a porthole that I realized what I had seen.
My face was pale, but I recognized myself immediately. The eyes of the man peering at me from the darkness of the porthole were bright with excitement. He smiled at me in welcome and made a slight motion with his hand, beckoning me to come and join him in the night.
I stared blankly back at him for a moment, and then turned and ran towards the stern. I heard the sound of running feet behind me, then suddenly the deck seemed to explode under my feet as the deck above collapsed. I fell heavily, knocking loose some of the cargo that had been piled along the side of the hold.
The boards creaked ominously as I clambered back to my feet and ran past them towards the companionway that led up to the main deck. There was another explosion, followed by a roar that filled the world. The ship shook once more, sending me sprawling to the floor.
I scrabbled backward desperately for the steps as another shockwave rolled through the vessel. It seemed to go on forever before finally subsiding.
The air felt heavy and thick with smoke, even though no fire was visible anywhere on the main deck. I climbed hurriedly up to the upper decks and found that everyone had fled the ship in panic. Most of the sailors were milling about near the gangplank, but a group of them clustered around a single figure, standing at the center of the deck, staring out to sea.
They must have seen me approaching, for someone called out to me angrily.
“What are you doing?”
I looked around quickly, but nobody else seemed to be paying any attention. I approached the sailor. “Who is he?”
The man stepped forward and glared at me, making sure the others were watching.
“I am John Smith. What should you think if your Captain has just murdered all of his men? And now he has vanished off into the night, taking his bloody ship with him!”
I felt myself flush red, but I forced myself to remain calm. “And where does he suppose we could go? We are hundreds of miles from land here—it would take us months to get to England by any reasonable route.”
Smith shrugged. “That doesn’t matter! He’s done it now, so why wait for him to come back?”
The man’s companions sniggered.
“You’re right,” one of them said, nodding to the others. “It’s too late now. Let’s go.”
There was laughter again, and they started towards the ladder leading down to the lower decks. Before Smith or I could object, they reached it and began descending.
“Wait!” Smith shouted after them. “If this was really Captain Flint’s plan, we need to know what he meant by it. Where will he go?”
He didn’t answer and instead kept climbing until they were lost from sight below decks. After a few moments, I followed suit.
The first mate stood near the wheel, watching the shore slowly come into view as we sailed north. He didn’t look particularly concerned, so I decided that I wasn’t going to bother him for the time being. Instead, I made my way through the crew to the quarterdeck, where I could gaze out towards the horizon, and try to decide what to do next.
I knew that we had a long way to go; perhaps it wouldn’t be too hard to find some way of making money along the way. If I was careful I’d never run out of food, and there was always the chance that I might be able to sell my stories in America.
I tried to think how I had ever ended up on a pirate ship, and couldn’t quite remember. Perhaps that was because all I could recall clearly of the last two years was being held captive by pirates. I shuddered at the thought and took a deep breath of the crisp air coming in through the open windows.
I could smell the salt water now, mingling with the wood smoke from the ship’s stove. As I stared out over the ocean, a movement caught the corner of my eye and I turned. A familiar dark shape lay on the deck nearby, curled up in a ball, sleeping peacefully.
When I got closer to it, I could see that it was Jamie, the young boy who worked aboard the Black Swan. His pale blond hair framed his face in waves that were beginning to grow longer than I remembered. He must have been only nine or ten years old; not yet old enough to work at the wheel or in the rigging, but capable of keeping his share of the watch.
I knelt beside him and touched his shoulder. He stirred slightly and opened his eyes. For a moment I wondered if he would recognize me, but when he gave me a wide-eyed stare of surprise I knew it was true.
“Mr. Fletcher?” he said uncertainly. “You…you’re not…”
“No,” I said gently. “I’m not Captain Flint. Are you well?”
Jamie nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir—just a bit tired is all.”
“You look exhausted.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Not much more to do than usual, I expect. You?”
“A little.” I glanced past him at the horizon. “We’ve still got a long way to go.”
He grimaced. “Too far by half, that’s for sure.”
For the rest of the day, Jamie stayed close to me. He seemed relieved, almost grateful to me for coming aboard. Whenever I went to speak with anyone else he would stay by my side, offering to carry messages or whatever he could do to help me.
I had expected him to resent me or hate me, but as the hours passed I became aware of something that hadn’t struck me before. It wasn’t anger or hatred—Jamie didn’t seem to have any of those feelings.
Instead, he seemed frightened; afraid of the unknown, and unsure of what was happening around him. I could relate to that feeling. When I looked out across the expanse of sea, I couldn’t make out anything that suggested it would be possible to reach our destination.
In the end, I realized that I was trying to imagine what was ahead and failing; all I knew was what I had seen in my dream, which was nothing. And even then, I didn’t know if it would be possible for me to get there, or what lay beyond.
The End